


One Bad Day

by AdorableDoom



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, Violence, nonlinear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorableDoom/pseuds/AdorableDoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, you're one bad day away from being me."</p><p>Matt thinks about those words more often than he'd like to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Bad Day

    "You know, you're one bad day away from being me."

     It's one of the very first things he ever said to you, that night on the rooftop as the world around you exploded into a violent kaleidoscope of gunfire and chaos. You think about that night, those words more often than you'd like to admit. You think about them every time innocent blood is split and you're not fast enough to stop it. You think about every time some piece of drug dealing garbage gets some kid hooked. You think about it every time your fists collide into flesh again and again and you know, you know they deserve it and so much more but you are not that man.  
      You're not him.  
  
      You think about it as you slam your fists into his smug, mocking face. He laughs, half crazed. "You gotta do better than that choir boy!" He mocks. He's a murderer, no better than the thugs he's gunning down like animals. (He keeps his daughter's picture by his nightstand. You've never seen her face but the way he describes her to you in those early morning hours between violence filled nights and days where you wonder when the other shoe is going to drop and the secret life you live is going to destroy everyone and everything you hold dear, you feel as if you had.)  
       He's a lunatic, a madman hellbent on causing mayhem and death. (You hear the love in his voice when he talks about her, even without your abilities, even without your head lying atop his heart, you would've been able to tell how much she meant, no, how much she still means to him.) "You're a psychopath!" You yell back. He dodges to the left, slams a steel fist into your already aching ribs. Three of them snap like porcelain slamming into stone.  
You drop like a sack of cement and he doesn't hesitate. He stands over you, slamming his boot into your broken ribs again and again. Pain shoots through you like lightening, leaving you reeling and defenseless. He doesn't deny it. "Yeah? What does that make you?" He sneers.

    You think about it as he leans forward and presses his lips against yours. His lips are soft, softer than you'd thought they'd be. He crushes you to him so hard it hurts and you cling to him like he's the last lifeline in a storm. You kiss him like the world is ending. Maybe it is.

  
   You think about it when he takes your face in his hands. He has a solider's hands, a fighter's hands. Hands that break bones and drew blood. Hands like yours, maybe more than you'd like to admit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the new Daredevil Season 2 trailer about 50 times this morning. This was the result.


End file.
